


Bruce Wayne is Cancelled

by ydysprosium



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Blood and Torture, Community: dckinkmeme, Gen, Humor, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Attraction, Press and Tabloids, Secret Identity, Social Media, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ydysprosium/pseuds/ydysprosium
Summary: After suggestive pictures and video of Bruce and Dick turn up online, a new journalist unearths old rumors that Bruce had been abusing Dick since childhood.  Bruce is immediately cancelled on social media.  And there's just enough truth to some of the accusations that friends and family start having second thoughts.Dick tries to clear things up, but only makes matters worse.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 63
Kudos: 278





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a DC Kink Meme prompt here: https://dckinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/766.html?thread=761598#cmt761598
> 
> (Because instead of finishing my one wip, I decided to work on two at the same time. XD )

“Hey, B,” Nightwing said after patrol, a smile on his face that had Bruce instantly frowning. It was the kind of smile that meant Bruce would not like what Dick was about to ask, but would agree to it anyway, eventually. “Mr. Freeze’s Frozen Treats just opened a store today. We’re all going to stop by for an after-patrol snack, and I was thinking you should join us.” 

Bruce’s frown deepened at the news, all they needed was yet another villain themed fast food place. “No,” he said gruffly, and turned to the Batcomputer to pull up a file and try and look busy.

“Awww, It’ll be fun, come on. Everyone else is going.”

“No,” Bruce said, with less emphasis this time. He tried to think of a convincing excuse, but Dick’s pleading look was so distracting.

“They have non-dairy ice cream too. I’m sure Damian would be thrilled if his father took him.”

Bruce gulped. He still felt a lot of guilt over not being there for Damian, not being enough of a father to his son, and essentially letting Dick raise him. “He likes you better.”

“He likes you too,” Dick insisted. “You just don’t give him much of a chance to show it.”

“Fine, I’ll go,” Bruce relented. Maybe it would be good to spend a little off-duty time with his kids. And how bad could a quick stop for ice cream be?

\--

Mr. Freeze’s wasn’t bad, as far as supervillain themed shops went, a few stylish posters lined the walls, and most of them were scenes that were actually pretty flattering to Gotham’s heroes. An enormous plate glass window took up most of the front of the shop, and the doors were glass as well, and pulled glass icicles dangled from the ceiling, keeping with the ice theme. Bruce frowned, and wondered how long the glass would stay unbroken in Gotham. Not long likely.

“They have superhero themed specials too, B,” Dick gushed, pulling Bruce over to where the rest of the group had gathered around the glass ice cream display counter. “Do you want to get a triple chocolate Batman special? It’s fudge brownie with chocolate ice cream, and chocolate sauce, and some of the frozen chocolate chunks are shaped into tiny Batman ears.”

“A Red-Hoodsicle? And it’s a plain cherry popsicle? That’s all he gets?” Jason griped from further down the line.

Dick burst out laughing, almost doubling over. “I’m sure it matches his helmet, Jay!”

“I’m just going to get a Joker’s Surprise,” Jason muttered. 

“Yeah, because that always goes so well,” Tim snarked with an eyeroll. 

“Hey, it’s guaranteed five different random flavors, topped with four random toppings. And no crowbar.”

“Pity,” Damian sniffed. “Perhaps more head trauma would improve your abysmal personality, Todd.”

Tim and Steph snickered, and Jason started turning an interesting shade of red.

“Aw, you didn’t really mean that, little D, did you?” Dick asked stepping in between Jason and Damian. “He didn’t mean it, Jay, it’s just late and we’re all tired. Right?”

Jason turned away with a huff. “Forget it, Goldie. I ignore insults from midgets anyway.”

“This was a bad idea,” Bruce grumbled, glancing around at the other patrons who were mostly ignoring his rambunctious kids. Hopefully. 

\--

“Wait, you seriously came to a specialty ice cream place, and bought one scoop of vanilla ice cream?” Duke asked incredulously when he saw Bruce’s small cup of ice cream. No doubt he was adding this to Bruce’s list of ‘weird rich guy’ traits.

“I, uh, I’m not that hungry,” Bruce said, sitting on the edge of the booth seat next to Dick. Damian was seated on the other side of Dick, angrily stabbing his ice cream and glaring across the table at Tim and Jason. Duke, Cassandra and Stephanie were seated at a table across from the booth. 

“That’s fine,” Dick said, grabbing Bruce’s arm and pulling him fully into the seat. “I got extra, so you can try some of mine. I wanted to try both Batman’s triple chocolate special, and the Nightwing themed one.”

*Bootlicker* *Asskisser* Jason sing-songed.

Dick scowled and threw an arm over Bruce’s shoulder. “At least I’m loyal to someone, Jay. And don’t use that language around little D, please.”

“Why? The gremlin’s heard worse,” Jason said, aggressively taking a bite of his multicolored pile of ice cream.

“Todd’s uncouth use of language is hardly novel to me,” Damian agreed, scooping up a bite of his Poison Ivy themed green tea vegan ice cream.

“It doesn’t mean the rest of us want to hear it,” Duke interjected from the next table over. “Seriously guys, people are going to start staring.”

“Jason’s just jealous he doesn’t get a cool superhero themed dessert,” Dick stage whispered.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sooo jealous I don’t get two giant scoops of chocolate and blueberry ice cream, shaped just like my giant-”

“Please just eat your ice cream,” Bruce pleaded, with maybe a touch more desperation in his voice than he had intended. He really wasn’t in the mood to get thrown out, and then read about it in the papers the next day. It seemed to do the trick, as both Jason and Damian grumbled and turned their attention back to their desserts.

Dick hugged Damian close (who scowled but relaxed into the hug), and leaned into Bruce. He really was tactile, and he felt warm where he was pressed up against Bruce’s side, and his fingers pressed briefly into Bruce’s shoulder.

“Here, try some Batman,” Dick said, lifting his spoon up to Bruce’s lips. “You have to at least try it you know.”

If Bruce hadn’t been so exhausted and distracted, maybe he would have considered how it looked, as he leaned in and wrapped an arm loosely around Dick’s waist. Maybe he would have considered the implications of opening his mouth and letting his oldest spoon in cold chocolate ice cream that melted on his tongue, while he felt Dick’s warm breath on his cheek, and really, Bruce hadn’t realized they were so close.

“Geez, get a room you guys,” Jason snarked from the other side of the table, and Dick pulled away from Bruce.

“Do you want some too, little Wing?” Dick asked. “Here,” he said, crawling partway onto the table and reaching across with his spoon. “Try some Batman.”

“Gross!” Jason turned away and folded his arms. “I already have plenty of ice cream, I don’t want your cootie-covered spoon that you and B already slobbered over.”

“Dick, get off the table,” Bruce scolded. And if he knew anyone was filming, he probably would have thought twice before lightly swatting Dick’s ass (but it was just kind of there, in front of him, and he was really just reacting, not thinking.)

Dick blushed and slid back into his seat. “Sorry, B,” he mumbled.

Bruce just sighed and scooped up a spoonful of his tiny cup of vanilla ice cream, eager to get the whole ordeal done and over with.

-

Genevieve Greene posted her last Instagram photo of the night. It was an artful Gotham skyline, with the rising sun just starting to give the sky streaks of light pink. _Night, all_ , she wrote _, no bats or supervillains on day 1, but two weeks is a long time!_

This really was a dream vacation for her, and even though day one had been underwhelming as far as heroes and villains went, at least she had gotten a handful of very tasteful photos. The new ice cream place had been a real treat, all the glass made for some really unique shots. And she had even captured a few cute pictures for her ‘cute couple of the week’ tag. She knew it was just maybe a little unethical to take picture of random people without permission, but no-one had complained yet, and the two guys feeding each other ice cream had been absolutely adorable (and they even had an angry little child with them who had given her dirty looks, but she had cropped him out of the picture.) Maybe the guys would even want to buy prints, and maybe one day, she’d become a famous photographer, and could travel as a real job, not just on vacations she saved up for all year as a cashier.

Genevieve fell asleep in the soft hotel sheets, dreaming of how famous she might someday become.

\--

Tim approached Bruce two days later. “Hey, remember when we all went out to get ice cream? It’s online,” he blurted out.

Bruce rubbed a hand over his face. “How bad is it? Are they speculating on our identities?”

“No, it’s not that, there’s no audio, but Bruce, it looks pretty bad.”

“Bad? What do you mean?”

Tim looked uncomfortable. “Some online photographer who was visiting Gotham thought you and Dick were a couple and posted pictures, and a short video.”

Bruce frowned. “Can you ask for the pictures to be taken down?”

“Too late for that, B,” Tim said with a grimace. He pulled up a page on his phone. “GreenGothamGen’s popularity skyrocketed over the past two days, and the pictures and video of you and Dick have over 5 million shares and likes.”

Bruce grunted and looked at the page. The latest photo was of a young lady with her hair dyed platinum blond, in full Harley Quinn cosplay, and a sign pointing to Arkham in the background. “Lovely,” Bruce grumbled. “Do you think she’s going to make more trouble for us?”

“I don’t think she knew who you were,” Tim said bringing up one of the photos of Dick feeding Bruce a heaping spoonful of chocolate ice cream. Most of the comments were along the lines of OMG, cute!, though there were a few pointing out THAT’S BRUCE WAYNE AND HIS ADULT WARD, OMG WHAT IS THEIR PROBLEM?

There was also a short video of Bruce smacking Dick’s butt, captioned: _get you a man who does this when you climb on the table, or get you a man with an ass this fine, I can’t decide!_

Bruce groaned. “It’s just on social media though? It’ll blow over soon, right?”

Tim sighed. “Unfortunately, the photos are already showing up on other websites, including a conspiracy theory website. It’s just a lot of speculation about your and Dick’s, uh, relationship, they’re calling it ice-cream-gate and linking to a lot of old gossip articles. It’s actually probably the most fact-based post they have on the entire website really,” Tim muttered under his breath. “Do you want me to try taking some of it down?” Tim asked hopefully. “I could hack their whole website.”

Bruce rubbed a hand across his face. “No. Taking it down will just make them think that there’s something to it.”

Tim raised an eyebrow.

“There’s been speculation in disreputable magazines before, it’ll blow over, it always does. I’ll call Lucius and let him know my official stance is ‘No Comment’.” Bruce paused, then turned back to Tim. “And let Dick know. He’s been in Bludhaven for the last couple of days, so he might not have heard anything yet.”

Tim nodded. “I’ll text him.”

\--

There was a knock at Dick’s front door at exactly ten thirty, much too early for him to be functional. He quickly shoved his Nightwing suit into the closet, pulled on a shirt and pair of shorts, and stumbled through the debris in his living room to open the door.

There was a diminutive woman on his doorstep, long red hair pulled tastefully back, and large green eyes staring determinedly back at him.

“Good morning, Mr. Grayson. Cordelia Voilture, Gotham Gazette,” she introduced herself. “I’m one of Ms Vale’s interns, just got hired on as a full-time journalist recently,” she happily chirped. She held up a bag. “Coffee? Donuts? Usually I try to get ahold of people before showing up, but you didn’t answer your phone.”

Dammit, she was too cute, and Dick didn’t have the heart to turn her away, even if his first instinct after hearing she worked for the media, and Vicki Vale to top it off, had been to slam the door. That still probably was the right decision, but Dick sighed and let her in. He tried to remember the last time he had checked his phone. Probably sometime last night, before he had gone on patrol?

“I, uh, had a late night,” Dick said sheepishly as he shoved empty take-out containers off the end table and couch and into a bag. “Sorry about the mess.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Mr. Grayson,” Cordelia said, finding a clear edge of the sofa to perch on. “Like I said, it’s my fault for coming by without confirming. But I thought you might like to tell your side of the story.”

“My side of what story?” Dick asked carefully, en route to the trash can. It was full, but he managed to shove the take out containers inside. He really hoped it wasn’t about to be a superhero story. 

“Oh, this is awkward,” Cordelia said as she artfully arranged the coffee and donuts on the coffee table. “I thought you’d know. It’s the biggest story on social media right now after all. You and Bruce Wayne.”

Dick sat down heavily on the couch and picked up a cinnamon sugar donut. At least Cordelia had gotten the fancy expensive donuts. She probably learned well as Vicki Vale’s intern. “There’s a lot of stories on social media,” he said through a mouthful of donut. “I don’t really pay attention to most of them. Or the gossip magazines either,” he added and made a face.

Cordelia laughed politely. “I imagine it does get repetitive for you.” She leaned forward, and her eyes were earnest. “But this time will be different, I’m starting with the social media pictures, and using old magazine reports to establish a timeline. Of course you can see if I’m going to go to such lengths for the truth, I’d want to get your perspective as well.”

“The truth?”

“About the exact nature of the relationship between you and Bruce Wayne. If there was every anything inappropriate between you two.”

Dick coughed and almost choked on a piece of donut, then swallowed and took a sip of coffee.

Cordelia continued unfazed. “I tried to contact Bruce Wayne, but he didn’t return my calls either, and well, when I went to visit him his butler threatened to get a restraining order.”

Dick laughed. “I can see Alfred doing that.”

Cordelia took a notebook out of her purse and jotted something down. “So Alfred is very loyal. Would you say that he’s more loyal to Bruce than you?” She peered at him carefully, transformed immediately into sharp and hawkish and all business.

Dick ran a hand through his hair. Cordelia was definitely not as harmless as she looked, and he’d have to be careful what he said. “I don’t know if I’d say that exactly. Alfred’s helped me a lot over the years. Especially when I first moved out on my own.”

“I see.” Cordelia’s eyes lit up. “I was just about to ask you to explain why you moved out of the manor so early and why you ended up in Bludhaven. So you moved out at 17 or 18? That seems kind of young to leave a guardian and start out on your own. Any particular reason?”

Dick unhappily picked up another donut, Boston cream this time, and wished he had never started talking. It would look bad to stop in the middle of an interview though, wouldn’t it? Surely she would make only the worst assumptions if he refused to talk. He gave Cordelia a fake smile and shrugged. “I grew up in the circus, I was used to moving around a lot, by the time I was old enough, I really just wanted to get out and try to make it on my own.”

“Hmm,” Cordelia tapped her pencil against the side of her face. “So you didn’t have _any_ problems with Bruce?”

Dick laughed awkwardly. “Not any more than most teenagers I guess. And I ended up in Bludhaven since I wanted to be close enough to visit, but far enough away that I could feel like I was on my own.”

“I see,” Cordelia said, though she sounded slightly disappointed.

Cordelia being disappointed was good, and Dick pressed forward with his advantage. “I mean, we’d have arguments, who doesn’t fight with their parents, but Bruce was never inappropriate.” There done. Maybe he should show her out while he was ahead.

“I’m sure he means a lot to you,” Cordelia said, flipping through her notebook. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask, I heard from an anonymous source, that Bruce treated you a lot differently than the other children he adopted. Care to comment on that?”

Dick grimaced, and picked up a sprinkled donut. “I mean, I was his first, so maybe things were a little different. Trial and error with parenting.”

“Trial and error,” Cordelia lit up again in a way that made Dick wish he had kept his mouth shut for the whole entire morning. “So my anonymous source told me specifically, that one way Bruce treated you differently was that he would spank you, but he never spanked any of his other kids. Do you have any insight on why that might be?

Dick almost dropped his donut, and fought the urge to facepalm. He wondered darkly who the anonymous source was. Jason? It had to be Jason. He laughed and tried to seem unaffected. “Well, I swung from the ceiling a lot as a kid, broke a few chandeliers,” he held out his arm to show her a scar. “And that was pretty dangerous, so maybe that’s why Bruce had to be more strict with me.”

“Interesting,” Cordelia remarked, and she glanced up at the crooked ceiling fan in the middle of the room.

“Yeah, old habits. I’m totally not getting my deposit back,” Dick quipped. He yawned and stretched. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a gym to run this afternoon.”

“Of course,” Cordelia said and handed him her card. “Thank you very much for your time, and if you ever want to talk about anything else, or add to your story, feel free to give me a call.”

Dick shoved the card into his pocket, and showed Cordelia to the door, having the sinking feeling that he should have just stayed in bed that morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Genevieve relaxed by the hotel pool and sipped her morning coffee. She had just extended her Gotham vacation to a third week. The royalties from one picture of Bruce Wayne alone easily covered the cost of staying longer. Maybe Gotham was just good luck for her. She’d even had a few bat-sightings last night, but the pictures were blurry. It didn’t matter though, since she had only been here one week so far, and now she had an extra week to perfect her technique, and having one photo splashed across the front page of the Gotham Gazette was a damn good accomplishment already. She did feel almost a little bad for the guys, she had just wanted to take a few cute pictures, not start a huge scandal. She shrugged, if they had wanted to keep their relationship a secret though, they should have known better than to crawl all over each other in public. 

And underneath the huge picture she had taken of Bruce Wayne’s ward feeding him ice cream was the caption:

Ice-Cream-Gate: A Renewed Look at the Hidden Scandalous Relationship Between Bruce Wayne and His Former Ward

\--

Dick woke to 47 new messages on his phone. He groaned, and scrolled through them. One was from Cordelia, letting him know that the story about him and Bruce was front page material, and reminding him he just needed to call if he wanted to add to his story. There were a few worried messages from Tim, wondering if he was okay, and if maybe he wanted to vacation in Antarctica this year.

Dick snorted. Was the article that bad? He texted Tim _: Just got up, will stop by the manor later_.

Tim replied almost instantly _: Good idea. You might want to pack a bag and enter in through the cave. Every reporter in Gotham and a few concerned citizens are camped out in front by the gate._

Dick groaned. Okay, it probably was that bad. Maybe he’d close the gym down temporarily, and stay at the manor, or somewhere else where he wouldn’t have to interact with civilians. 

After a quick breakfast of juice and cereal, Dick noticed that someone (probably Cordelia), had helpfully delivered that day’s edition of the Gotham Gazette on his doorstep. Dick snatched it up, and felt his face heat up. Okay, so maybe the photo of him feeding Bruce was just a little suggestive, hopefully the article wouldn’t be as bad?

Dick opened it up and started reading. It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, it was worse.

_Bruce Wayne’s ward, Richard “Dick” Grayson is an enigmatic man. Literally growing up in the circus, Grayson easily admits that his formative years influenced both his current level of athletic activity, and his wanderlust. But could simple wanderlust account for a 17-year-old leaving the lap of luxury at Wayne manor to wander homeless for an unspecified number of years, and end up living in squalor in a run-down Bludhaven apartment? Or had there been another reason? Grayson is almost as tight-lipped as his former guardian on the subject, but admitted that his relationship with Wayne had occasionally been tumultuous, especially during his teen years._

_An anonymous source reports that Grayson had been subjected to much stricter physical forms of punishment than any of Wayne’s other adoptive children, including, but not limited to, spanking. Grayson tried to jokingly downplay the punishment as a result of his acrobatic destruction of Wayne manor. But it really points to something deeper, more insidious below the surface of his relationship with Wayne. Why did Wayne need to spank his first child (admittedly, a punishment with slight sexual overtones) well into his teen, and possibly adult years? And in light of the scandalous video that surfaced in recent days, one wonders if it ever stopped, or if it was simply one of the many ways that Wayne’s inappropriate attraction to this handsome young man manifested._

_Grayson himself reluctantly admits that there was an element of “trial and error” present in Wayne’s parenting of him. One wonders exactly what sordid secrets might hide beneath the deceptively benign label of “trial and error”. The evidence from multiple sources hints strongly that sexual experimentation could very easily played a large part, perhaps what Grayson might consider “trial”. And as far as “error”, well, for a man so devotedly loyal to Bruce Wayne to admit that there had been an element of error present, perhaps that had to do with the real reason that Grayson fled Gotham so many years ago and ultimately ended up in Bludhaven. Shrouded in so much secrecy, it’s impossible to even speculate what might have transpired. But Alfred Pennyworth, a man also fiercely loyal to Bruce Wayne, had reportedly assisted Grayson in his exit. Surely it must have been a terrible, momentous event for Alfred to favor Grayson over Wayne in this one instance. Perhaps even much more vile and noteworthy than years of inappropriate touching and experimentation. And with the myriad of scars that cover Grayson’s body, many more than can be explained away by ‘swinging from chandeliers’, one can only conclude that Grayson and Wayne’s relationship took a very dark turn indeed during that time._

Dick fought the urge to scream and stuffed the newspaper in his trashcan, deciding not to read the rest of the ‘story’. He darkly wondered if Bruce could sue Cordelia for libel. 

He checked his phone again. There was a concerned message from Clark, asking Dick if he wanted to stay in Metropolis or Smallville for a few weeks.

Dick texted back: _Thanks, I’ll think about it. Btw, don’t you journalists have some kind of code of honor or something? Because I must have talked to the most crooked new journalist in all of Gotham. She took everything I said and twisted it!_

Clark texted back: _The offer is open anytime, just let me know. Yeah, some journalists already have an idea of what they want to say, and try and get you to say things they can quote and fit into their narrative. Let me know if you want to talk with me instead, if the story gets any bigger, the Planet might run a version of it. Did Bruce really hit you though? He shouldn’t have done that._

Dick texted back: _Thanks, ttyl_

There was also a message from Roy that just said: _Wtf!!!????_

Dick rolled his eyes and deleted Roy’s message. Then he packed a bag, texted Tim, and left for Gotham.

\--

Dick looped around in front of the Manor when he first arrived on his motorcycle, just to see whether Tim was exaggerating or not. Unfortunately, Tim had not been exaggerating, and there was a crowd of reporters outside the gate. There were also a few angry looking people holding signs that said ‘Down with Bruce Wayne’, and ‘Boycott Wayne Industries’.

Dick zipped away before he was noticed, and drove in through one of the cave’s hidden entrances.

-

Damian was training alone in the Batcave. “Grayson,” he said as Dick approached. “The others are in the kitchen, discussing the recent article that highlights father’s misdeeds.”

“You know about that already?” Dick asked, a sinking feeling growing in his stomach.

“Father and the others think I am unaware of the situation, but I overheard him and Pennyworth discussing the article, and read it when they were not looking.” Damian looked pleased with his stealth techniques.

Dick exhaled heavily. Maybe it was better that Damian knew already. He’d probably find out eventually, even if they tried to keep it from him. “So, uh, it’s a very biased article of course,” Dick blurted out. “Do you have any questions?”

Damian gave Dick a look that he usually reserved for simpletons, or adults who treated him like a naïve child. “Obviously father treated you differently since you were more competent than the others. You didn’t require as much coddling as Todd or Drake. Without having the context of Batman, it is easy to see why the reporters would jump to the wrong conclusion.”

“Uh, yeah, that makes sense,” Dick muttered, at least the part about the reporters not having enough context made sense.

Damian looked pleased with himself. “I don’t expect the others to understand, since it requires that they face their own insecurities.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “And what about you?”

“Ttt, I was already well trained before arriving here. Physical punishment would have been redundant at that point, as both you and father obviously realized.”

Dick swallowed. He couldn’t even imagine what Damian must have gone through with Talia. “Let me know if you ever want to talk about that sometime,” he said, and this voice sounded thick with emotion. Then he pulled a scowling Damian close.

“Fine, Grayson, I will indulge your constant need for physical affection,” Damian complained as he relaxed into the hug.

“Thanks,” Dick whispered. He felt a little better already.

-

The atmosphere in the kitchen was tense and unhappy, and Dick quietly set his bag down. Bruce sat at the table, head in his hands, and the newspaper was in the middle. Steph was standing a ways apart, arms folded, and Tim was playing on his phone. Alfred was nowhere to be seen.

Bruce glanced over and noticed Dick’s bag. “You’re staying here?” he asked.

Dick nodded. “The Bludhaven reporters haven’t started camping out on my doorstep yet, but I thought I’d leave before they do. I don’t have as many exits there.”

Bruce just grunted.

Dick started guiltily at the newspaper on the table and swallowed. “I’m sorry, Bruce, I shouldn’t have talked to that reporter,” he said. “I was just trying to explain that nothing happened, but she took everything I said and twisted it.”

“Yes, Dick, you should have known better,” Bruce agreed. He didn’t look angry though, just tired and resigned.

“Um, excuse me?” Steph said, pointing to the article. “The most damning evidence in this whole article is the anonymous source that claims you spanked and hit Dick but no one else. What the hell, Bruce?”

“Yes, and Dick accidentally confirmed it,” Bruce pointed out. “Otherwise it would just be speculation.”

Steph folded her arms. “Maybe it’s your fault for actually doing it. Yikes at you.”

Bruce winced and didn’t say anything to defend himself.

“Hey, did we ever find out who the anonymous source was?” Dick asked, trying to take the focus of the anger off of Bruce.

“Probably Jason,” Tim said. “He’s not answering any of my messages, but it seems like the kind of move he’d pull to mess with both you and Bruce.”

Dick snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he’s getting a kick out of all this.”

Tim fidgeted with his phone again. “Oh, and Duke just texted me to say that he is going to stay with Batwoman until this whole thing blows over.”

“You know what? That’s a great idea,” Steph said. “I think I’m going to stay with Oracle and train with her for a few weeks, or until this blows over, which with Bruce’s level of denial will probably be never.” Steph stormed out of the room.

“She’s kind of right,” Tim said after Steph had left. “Maybe you should call a press conference, Bruce, and admit to some of the things you did do. Hiding away only makes people assume the worst.”

“Maybe,” Bruce said. “I’ll wait and see.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “You’re trending on twitter now under the hashtag #cancelbrucewayne, and the company stock fell 20% today. There’s calls for an official investigation, or for you to step down as CEO.”

“Thank you, Tim, I’ll call Lucius about it later,” Bruce said with a deep sigh.

“I, uh, I’m going down to the cave to do a few things on the Batcomputer,” Tim said, and hurried out of the room.

Which left Dick alone with Bruce. “Bruce, I really am sorry,” he said.

Bruce sighed. “It’s not entirely your fault. It took me a while to realize reporters never had my best interests in mind. And it’s a reminder to all of us to be more careful going out in public. Just please don’t talk with reporters ever again.”

Dick felt like he had to at least defend Clark when the subject of reporters being evil incarnate came up. “Clark says the free press is an important part of a democracy. They help hold elected leaders accountable for their actions.”

Bruce winced. “Yes, _reputable_ reporters like Clark are important,” Bruce begrudgingly admitted. “But the reporters outside - they’re vultures, circling and picking at whatever they can get.”

Dick refrained from pointing out that vultures and other carrion-eaters were an important part of the eco-system. “Maybe the reporters outside think they’re holding a rich billionaire accountable for his actions,” Dick said, trying to at least understand the other point of view.

“I must have seemed harsh to them. And there were all the injuries from your time patrolling as Robin.” Bruce admitted. “Looking back now, I really wish I would have given you time outs instead. Maybe for myself too.”

Dick gave an easy shrug. “Hey, I was a little hellion back then, I probably deserved to be spanked most of the time.” He had hated being punished like that as a kid, and once he developed a crush on Bruce as a teenager, it was just awkward. Awkward, embarrassing, and weirdly kind of hot, though Dick would never admit that. He groaned, wondering if he had ever subconsciously provoked Bruce into punishing him when he had a huge teenage crush. Great, another reason this was maybe his fault.

“What?” Bruce asked when Dick facepalmed.

“I was just thinking, I used to have a crush on you as a kid, mostly the hero-worshipping kind, I mean, who wouldn’t, you were Batman, but I wonder if any of the people who wrote those old articles picked up on that, and that’s why they assumed there was something inappropriate going on.”

Bruce just stared at him. “Uh, no, I don’t think that would make much of a difference,” he said awkwardly. “It’s the adult’s behavior they’re looking at really in these cases.” He stood up, walked over, and stiffly pulled Dick into a hug. “You’re not to blame for any of this, really, don’t worry about it.”

Dick sniffed and hugged Bruce back. “What about the reporter?”

“I shouldn’t have blamed you for that, earlier,” Bruce admitted. “Trust me, I’ve said worse to reporters over the years. Now, how about we ignore the media circus on the front steps, and spend most of the next few weeks training and patrolling?”

“I’d like that,” Dick said, giving Bruce a tight squeeze. 


	3. Chapter 3

Tim really didn’t know what to think of the whole situation. Obviously, Dick, Bruce, and Damian were content to throw themselves into superheroing, and training, and pretend everything else was fine. Tim was the only one in the Manor currently monitoring the “situation” on social media, and honestly, he was starting to have mixed feelings.

He’d always noticed that Dick and Bruce had an unusual relationship. They’d fought more like a married couple than father and son when Tim had started out as Robin. A married couple that constantly broke up, got back together, would throw things at each other screaming, and had enough serious issues to make a marriage counselor rich, but still.

“Alfred,” Tim asked while eating a mandated after patrol snack of salted nuts and a protein shake. (Bruce working from home to avoid the media meant the man had tons more free time, and was around more to constantly nag his kids to eat healthy.) “Did Bruce and Dick’s relationship ever seem odd to you?” Mostly Tim wanted to quell any doubts he had.

“They did share a bed when Master Richard first moved into the Manor,” Alfred mused.

Tim spewed his drink over the counter. Okay, that sounded really bad, like epically bad and imagine if journalists got their hands on that information, Tim would never be able to set foot in Wayne Manor ever again, simply because it would be over-run with reporters and concerned citizens. “They…what?!” he managed.

Alfred raised an eyebrow and handed Tim a wet rag to wipe down the table. “They shared a bed. For a while at least. I imagine Master Richard was used to communal sleeping, and felt less alone in Master Bruce’s bed, you can ask him about the details if you desire.”

Tim started wiping up the protein shake mess he’d made. “Oh, that makes sense I guess,” he said, frowning. And it probably had been fine, but added together with everything else that had happened, well, it was starting to paint an ugly picture no matter how you tried to look at it.

Tim checked social media again when he was supposed to be sleeping. Some old pictures of Dick with bruises on his arm were trending, and Tim frowned. Surely they were all from Dick’s time as Robin, but it would have been so easy for Bruce to use that as an excuse if he had ever lost his temper.

Tim rolled over and started texting Stephanie. _How’s everything going at the clocktower?_

.

_Great! We’re having a pizza party tonight! You should come join_.

.

Tim wasn’t quite ready to give up being the sole voice of reason left in the Manor to join Steph, Cass, and Babs, but if things got worse, at least it was an option.

\--

Charles Tucker, aka Chuckles for short, had no sense of humor. It was sad really, considering his name, and how easily his nickname was formed, but probably a prerequisite for being an Arkham guard. Currently, Chuckles had the only TV in the rec room set to some abysmal gossip show that was going on about billionaires and their many misdeeds. His feet were propped up on one of the tables, and he leaned back in his chair, occasionally glancing at the inmates as he watched the constant hand-wringing on the wretched show.

The Joker clenched his fist in rage. “Chuckles,” he called out, keeping his voice sing-songy sweet. “Be a darling and change the channel. I think we’ve all heard about children being abused by local businessmen enough for one day. Why don’t you see if there’s something good on? Like a Joker themed true crime documentary? Now that’s entertainment.”

That got a reaction, and Chuckles removed his feet from the table and slammed them forward onto the floor, his bulk making an impressively loud noise. “Shutup or you’re going back to your cell,” he barked.

The only place he was going was out of Arkham, but poor Chuckles hadn’t read the memo yet. “Ooh, you know how to make me feel all tingly with your authoritative tone, Chuckles.”

Chuckles heaved himself to his feet, and barreled over to where the Joker was seated. “All right. That’s it. No more rec room privileges for you for a week.”

The Joker gasped in mock indignation. “Why Chuckles, you wound me. I thought we had something special together. How will I ever keep up my card games with Penguin?”

“Not my problem,” Chuckles grit out, grabbing the Joker by the collar of his jumpsuit.

Joker started laughing hysterically as he was dragged into the hall. Chuckles was about to bring him exactly where he wanted to be, especially when he found out about the Joker’s new shiv.

\--

It was easier not to think about things, not to think about why Bruce was being more awkward around him than usual, and making a point to soften his face after patrol to tell Dick, Tim, and Damian “Good work tonight,” and hand them all a protein shake that looked like it had escaped from the green lagoon.

“Thanks Bruce,” Dick said, accepting his drink and frowning at the contents. “Is this one the same flavor as all the rest? What’s it called again, sea sludge?”

Tim snorted into his drink, and Dick considered the joke a success.

Bruce sighed. “It’s fortified with algae, it’s healthy. The recipe said the fruits and berries in the drink would be enough to flavor it.”

Dick took a sip and grimaced. “More like the algae is flavoring the fruit,” he complained, because it was easier to complain about Bruce’s newest health obsession than it was to wonder if maybe he still had a little bit of a crush leftover on Bruce. Because he didn’t want to make Bruce’s life even more of a nightmare than he already had.

“Just drink it,” Bruce pleaded, “We’ve all been working hard this week, we need to replenish our nutrients, or else we’ll all get worn down.”

“Sorry, Bruce. Just trying to lighten the mood,” Dick said and continued drinking the sea sludge.

Bruce looked torn between wanting to laugh or cry. “Lighten the mood a different way,” he managed after a while.

Dick brightened up after he finished his sea sludge drink. “Does that mean we get family game night after patrol? That would lighten the mood.” Dick gave Bruce a pleading look.

Bruce slumped his shoulders. “Okay. Pick something that doesn’t take long.” He gave Tim a brief frown. “No monopoly or chess.”

“Not twister,” Tim said, with a pointed glance at Dick. “And last time I won monopoly in under two hours.”

They finally settled on playing Damian’s newest video game, Cheese Vikings 4: Attack of the Pie-Rats. It was probably just what they needed, laughing together on the couch, with Damian and Tim battling it out on screen, and Dick helping to show Bruce how to work some of the controls. And best of all, it was easy to pick a stopping point once Damian started yawning.

\--

Later, after Damian and Tim went to bed, Dick checked his phone. He had several irate voice messages from his landlord, complaining about reporters blocking access to the apartment building, and how it was both a noise violation and a fire hazard and could he could now legally be evicted, but if he was willing to pay the rest of the rent on the lease, his landlord would graciously allow him to move out by the end of next month. Dick sighed. As if he needed more drama in his life. He made a note to call his slumlord in the morning.

He also had 30 concerned messages from friends and family. Babs wanted to know how he was holding up, and to let him know he could stay at the Clocktower any time. Roy had sent him a bunch of angry emojis and a ‘ _Stop ignoring me’_ text. Wally sent a bunch of sad emojis and a ‘let me know next time you’re in Central, dude’ text. And both Clark and Diana had helpful suggestions as to places he could stay other than Wayne Manor. 

It was touching to see how much everyone cared, but it really was a little overwhelming, and Dick wished they would just use Bruce’s tactic of waiting until people got tired of the topic. 

-

Dick spent most of the next morning negotiating the end of his lease with his angry slumlord. Then he replied to all his concerned friends and let them know everything was fine. By the time he went downstairs to the kitchen, it was so late that Tim was already up, and drinking his first cup of coffee.

“Morning,” Tim said, sipping his coffee.

“Morning.” Dick scanned the cupboards for his favorite sugary cereal. “Hey Tim, do you know where Bruce put the Crocky Crunch?”

Tim shrugged. “He’s on a health kick now, he might not have bought anything sugary the last time Alfred ordered groceries.”

“Aw man,” Dick said, trying to find a sugary replacement for his beloved cereal, but just coming up with algae and seaweed themed products. “Who’s he taking nutritional advice from, Poison Ivy?” Dick complained. Finally, he settled on having a bowl of shredded seaweed bites for breakfast. They were shaped like tiny sea creatures, which was kind of cute, but didn’t make up for the fact they were so healthy they were completely unappetizing.

“Uh, Dick, I wanted to ask you something,” Tim said as Dick joined him at the table.

“What?” Dick asked, starting to shovel seaweed bites into his mouth, and pausing at the taste. It wasn’t terrible, but it certainly couldn’t be classified as an enjoyable meal by any stretch of the imagination.

“Alfred said you shared a bed with Bruce when you were young. What was going on then?”

Dick frowned. He remembered how alone he’d felt after his parents had died, how huge the Manor had seemed to him at first, and how Bruce had gone out of his way to accommodate him. “There were usually tons of people around all the time at the circus,” he said. “I shared a small one room trailer with my family. When I first came here, everything was so huge and so quiet and I just felt so alone, and I didn’t want to sleep in a bed by myself at night. Bruce let me sleep in bed with him for a while, until I got used to the Manor.”

“I see,” Tim said, but he still looked a little skeptical.

“I know it doesn’t sound good, especially with everything that’s been going on recently.” Dick felt a lump building in his throat. Bruce had gone out of his way, and probably out of his own comfort zone just to help Dick, and now it was just yet another event that would make Bruce look bad, that might be held against him. “But really, it was something Bruce did for me.”

Tim sighed. “Yeah, lets hope the media never finds out about that one,” he said. “Speaking of the media, someone managed to get a blurry photo of you playing with Titus and Damian outside.”

Dick grimaced, and it wasn’t totally at the seaweed disaster that was his breakfast. “So they know I’m here now.”

“They suspect it at this point,” Tim said. “But that didn’t stop the Gotham Inquirer from publishing a piece about Bruce Wayne keeping you in his secret dungeon.”

Dick made a face. “The Inquirer regularly publishes stuff about the Joker and Batman having a secret love child.”

“I know, it’s not a legit news source, but still, the thought that you might be here prompted some people to start a #freedickgrayson campaign on twitter.” Tim looked uncomfortable. “They’re using a lot of old pictures of you, when you had injuries from being Robin.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Tim,” Dick said. “I’ll be more careful from now on.” Maybe it _would_ be a good idea to get out of Gotham for a while. He certainly already had invitations to stay in Central City, Metropolis, or Star City.

Bruce arrived downstairs a short while later, when Dick had almost finished the seaweed abomination. He looked disheveled, and his bedhead stuck out in a way that was almost adorable. 

“Bruce,” Dick said. “What happened to the good cereal and all the snacks?” And maybe Dick should consider leaving just for the food. Wally always had tons of junk food and sweets around with his metabolism.

“Dick, please not now,” Bruce said. “The Joker escaped from Arkham last night. They think he took one of his guards with him as a hostage, and haven’t been able to find anything yet.”

Dick reconsidered. He couldn’t abandon Bruce with the Joker on the loose, not after everything the man had done for him. But maybe, just maybe there was a quick and easy way to help get the media attention off of Bruce without leaving Gotham. Maybe if all the focus was on Dick, they’d leave Bruce alone.

-

It probably hadn’t been the best decision of Dick’s life to call Cordelia again, and it had probably been an even worse decision to agree to meet with her at an overpriced coffee shop downtown. But maybe, if he was able to convince her it was all his fault, that Bruce was blameless and had just been trying to help, maybe the media would go after him for a change. That’s what they wanted, wasn’t it? A sensational story that sold papers. He’d give it to them, if it meant helping Bruce. And really, he could have picked any reporter, but he was sure he’d die of embarrassment if he tried to tell Clark, and Cordelia did seem like a genuinely good person deep down (though maybe that was his notorious weakness for redheads causing a little bias).

Codelia had picked a table in an out of the way area, partially hidden by giant potted plants. Dick adjusted his sunglasses and pulled his hoodie a little tighter as he slipped into the chair across from her. She had a tape recorder in the middle of the table, a pile of donuts, and two coffees.

“Mr. Grayson,” she greeted him. “How nice to see you again.”

“Sorry I can’t return the sentiment after what you did last time,” he said.

“I’m sorry the article wasn’t to your liking. But I had to balance your words with all my other sources,” Cordelia said as she pushed him a drink across the table.

“And your other sources won out,” he said humorlessly, accepting the drink. It was a special, sugary drink with whipped cream on top, and it tasted heavenly after Bruce’s latest seaweed fixation. Dick snagged a donut off the plate for good measure.

“I do have to try and see the big picture and be as balanced and unbiased as possible,” she said. “I hope you understand. Now, you told me there was more to the story, something you didn’t mention before?” she leaned forward eagerly.

He swallowed a mouthful of donut and coffee. “Yes, but, I just wanted to make it clear. This part of the story isn’t about Bruce, it’s just about me.” Hopefully since it was a story she wasn’t expecting, and he was able to control the narrative, she wouldn’t just try to get him to say the things she wanted him to say.

“Of course,” she said, pressing a button on the tape recorder. “Oh, by the way, what happened to your arm?” she asked, pointing at a nasty bruise where the sleeve of his hoodie had ridden up.

Dick couldn’t very well say the Riddler had gotten a lucky hit last night, and he cursed his luck. “I, uh, tripped and fell down the stairs,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “There’s lots of stairs in Wayne Manor aren’t there?”

“Yes-” Too late he realized he’d just basically confirmed he was staying at Wayne Manor with Bruce. But maybe that would help his case. Surely people wouldn’t think he’d continue to live with Bruce if the man was abusing him. Hadn’t moving out started the worst of the rumors?

“Is it awkward living with Bruce with all these rumors going around?” she asked.

“That’s not what I came here to discuss,” he said, because at least he learned enough since last time not to answer every question.

And so he told her about how Bruce had taken him in, back when his parents had died, emphasized how kind and generous Bruce had been, and how difficult of a child Dick had been, and he told her about the unfortunate teenage crush he’d developed on the man. Obviously, that hadn’t been Bruce’s fault, and surely that’s how some of the rumors were started. And maybe he had even subconsciously provoked Bruce into being a little more physical with his punishment. (He left out the part about sleeping in Bruce’s bed, and the part about not being certain whether or not he currently still had a crush on Bruce. No need to embarrass himself more than necessary.)

Cordelia listened without comment, which was strange, but probably a good sign. And when he finished, she didn’t look pleased, she looked sad and disturbed. Perhaps she was feeling remorse for getting it wrong last time? Dick could only hope.

“Mr. Grayson,” Cordelia said before he got up to leave. “I really hope things work out for you, that you can get the help and support you need. I can forward you some resources later.”

Dick frowned in confusion. Unless she was planning on sending him links to Oedipus and Electra Complexes Anonymous, he had no idea what she meant. “Uh, sure,” he said and left quickly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Joker torture scene that gets a little gory.

As far as Bruce could tell, the Joker planned to set bombs at several key areas in the city. The probable locations were haphazard, with no discernable pattern, but the Joker rarely made sense. Once you had the context of whatever whim he had in mind, his plans usually made sense in a twisted way, but until then, it was like playing a board game with half the pieces and the instructions missing. Tim and Barbara were compiling a list of potential locations based on activities of former henchmen and delivery shipments.

His phone made a noise, and Bruce saw that he had yet another incoming call from Wonder Woman. She had been calling all morning. He sighed, and accepted the call.

“Now isn’t a good time, the Joker escaped,” he said abruptly.

“There is never a good time for doing what is necessary, but it has to be done,” Diana said. “Bruce, you need to face these allegations now.”

“Diana, do you really think I would do something like that,” Bruce grit out. “I never did anything inappropriate with Dick.”

Diana made an unhappy noise. “Whatever else you may have done, I was mostly referring to Dick’s physical injuries over the years.”

Bruce, rubbed his forehead. “Diana, all those pictures, you know Dick got those injuries working as Robin, don’t you?”

“It was your decision to allow him to work with you as a vigilante as a _child_.”

Bruce gulped, he had felt uncertain when he first allowed Dick to join him, but had ultimately decided that helping Dick fight crime supervised was a better choice than forbidding it and having him run off on his own. “Dick choose that path for himself.”

“You were still his guardian, and responsible for his well-being. All the times he was injured as a minor are ultimately your responsibility.”

Maybe she had a point. But it wasn’t as if he could just tell the world how Dick had gotten so many injuries as a child. “I would have to reveal both our identities to explain. It’s not worth the risk to our safety.”

“There is no need to be specific. Perhaps a vague statement about being irresponsible and foolish, and allowing Dick to engage in risky activities.”

She was probably right, and maybe later he should call Lucius and have him prepare a statement. But that could wait, and the Joker’s bombs wouldn’t. “Diana-”

“I am saying this to help you, Bruce. Surely you are aware of how it looks if you fail to respond.”

“I know.” He sighed. “And I’ll take responsibility for it, really I will. I just need to focus on Joker first.”

“I see.” And he knew from her tone that she was judging him for choosing Gotham over his family. Bruce quickly ended the call. She was right, to some extent, but it was complicated. And explaining that there had been nothing between him and Dick was currently becoming even more complicated by both Dick’s reveal of his old crush, and Bruce’s emerging unwanted thought that maybe he felt the same way. Not that he thought for a minute that Dick still had a crush on him, but Bruce’s subconscious apparently had decided otherwise.

Bruce wasn’t blind, he knew on an intellectual level that Dick was very attractive. But it was something he never really noticed or realized before, not until the allegations, and then it was as if his brain decided that something very wrong and inappropriate was extremely appealing and exciting. 

Not that it ultimately mattered. Surely his unfortunate attraction to Dick would disappear once the novelty and wrongness of it wore off. Until then, it made life at the Manor slightly awkward. And unfortunately, Dick was so naturally affectionate that it only made things more awkward. Which compounded Bruce’s guilt, since he then had to balance trying to be a good father with not giving himself any room for temptation. None of this was Dick’s fault.

Dick entered the cave, looped an arm over Bruce’s shoulder and leaned in. “Find what the Joker is planning yet?” he asked.

Bruce nodded. “He potentially has bombs in 48 locations. Some might be dummy locations.” Because the Joker never made anything easy. “I’m having Oracle coordinate, and we’ll separate tonight to search them all.”

Dick leaned in close enough that his hair tickled Bruce’s cheek. “Sounds like a plan.”

Bruce flinched. As much as it was nice to feel the warmth of Dick’s body next to him, he really didn’t want to tempt himself.

A hurt expression flitted across Dick’s face, so brief it would have been easy to miss it as he stepped away. “I’m going to go train with Damian until it’s time to suit up,” he said.

Bruce nodded in approval.

“Any chance we might get non-healthy snacks later?” Dick asked hopefully.

“If we get the Joker back in Arkham, I’ll consider it,” Bruce said, because he couldn’t deny Dick anything ever, especially now with how wracked with guilt Bruce was. Fortunately, Dick had either not noticed or hadn’t taken advantage.

“Sounds great,” Dick said, giving him a mock salute. “Can we have a cake? Like with decorations and ‘Happy Joker being back in Arkham Day’ written on it? And invite the whole family?”

Bruce sighed. Maybe a party after this was all over would be good for them. “Ask Alfred about the cake,” he said.

“Thanks, B”, Dick said with a smile that made Bruce scowl to cover the way his face was heating up.

-

The bomb in the City Courthouse had been easy to defuse, and the one at the bank had been a dud. “Where to next, O?” Dick asked into his communicator.

“There’s another not too far from your current location,” Oracle said. “It’s in an abandoned store that went out of business a few years ago. I’ll send you the coordinates.” There was a pause. “Also, we need to talk later about your overeager reporter friends who try to interview previous girlfriends.” Oracle did not sound amused.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Dick said awkwardly. “I’ll stop by the Clocktower after we finish with the Joker.”

“See you then,” O said, and cut off communication.

Dick frowned. Maybe getting Cordelia to go after him instead of Bruce had been a mistake. Maybe she’d still annoy his family and friends with prying questions. And who knew what kind of story she had planned if she had tracked down Babs to interview her.

On his way to the location, Dick was flagged down and stopped by concerned civilians who lectured him on the fact that he only stopped the most obvious crimes in Gotham, and shouldn’t he be confronting evil billionaires too? They made him look at a few posts on the freedickgrayson tag on twitter, most of them complaining that Dick hadn’t been seen in days, and had obviously been kidnapped by Bruce. Dick managed to extract himself by promising to look into it later. 

Holy seaweed snacks Batman, if the rumors were starting to interfere with his crime fighting, he really needed to do something to disperse them. Hopefully Cordelia’s new article would help, but Dick was starting to have doubts.

He arrived at the location, Charlie’s Bakery, and everything was quiet and abandoned. And maybe if Dick had been more focused, he would have noticed that something seemed off, that things were too quiet, and not as dusty as they should be in an abandoned building, and that the bomb he found was too easy to find right in the middle of the room. As he knelt down next to the bomb to disarm it, he heard a foot scuffing on the floor behind him him, but it was too late, and there was a flash of pain right before everything went dark.

-

There had been a lot of Bat activity lately, the kind that Genevieve enjoyed putting on her Instagram. She had a pretty decent picture of Batman beating up a mugger, a blurry picture of Nightwing flipping between buildings, and one of Robin and Red Robin angrily arguing, almost fighting each other. The last picture was definitely the most popular of the three.

And to top it off, the Joker had escaped from Arkham, which meant way more photo taking opportunities. The streets were quiet, almost deserted. She wasn’t sure why everyone was so afraid, the chances of being kidnapped by the Joker were less than 1 in a million. More people got struck by lightning every year.

Going out in Harley Quinn cosplay maybe wasn’t the brightest idea, but imagine if she managed to get a selfie with the Joker in the background. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and the rewards clearly outweighed the risks. 

A shadow melted past, and Genevieve whirled and tried to take a picture. She ended up with a blurry streak that was about the same quality as most of the other photos of Black Bat she had found online. Gotham’s vigilantes and heroes really needed to have an official photo day.

-

She continued down the street, stopping only when she felt icy fingers grab her shoulder. Genevieve whirled, only to come face to face with the Joker. He was far more terrifying in person than she had imagined, stale breath, yellowed teeth and nails, and a cruel, vicious glint to his eyes that made her forget all about ever wanting a selfie with the man, and made her gasp in alarm.

“Well, don’t you look nice,” the Joker said with a giggle, grabbing her arm, his icy grip encircling her wrist like a vise. “Come along now dear, it’s not nice to keep an audience waiting.”

“Where, are you taking me?” Genevieve managed as she struggled to keep up. She knew on some level that angering him could be fatal.

“Congratulations are in order,” the Joker said as he dragged Genevieve along behind him, “You just won a spot as a contestant on Gotham’s newest game show, ‘Who Wants to Stab a Vigilante?’”

“I don’t want to stab anyone,” Genevieve sniffled as the Joker dragged her into a room full of cameras and lighting equipment.

“What’s that my dear, I can’t hear you,” the Joker shouted. “You know, you’re going to have to speak up so they can hear your voice on the show.” Then he suddenly whirled around and caught her by the face, his nails biting into her skin. “Oh, who am I kidding, nobody wants to hear what you have to say. That’s my job. As long as you look pretty for the cameras and provide a little entertainment and gore, it should be fine.” He looked at her expectantly, his cruel smile only inches from her face.

Genevieve felt paralyzed with fear. This wasn’t how she imagined things would go, ever. Gotham villains seemed fun and quirky from a distance, but up close was a different story altogether. She bit back a sob and managed to nod.

“Excellent, darling. You know, even though I got rid of Harley and sent her to that plant lady, it really is nice to have someone around to remind the audience of her. Like bringing back a lost wall decoration.”

One of the Joker’s henchmen looked up from where he was adjusting a camera and frowned. “But, boss, I thought Harley-”

“Shut it Steve!” the Joker raged and dropped Genevieve’s hand to stalk over and tower over his cowering employee. “I do the talking around here, it’s in your contract, so unless you want to volunteer as opening act and be stabbed on camera, you better zip it. Got it?”

Steve nodded. “Sure boss.”

“And tell Henry to hurry up with the website live-streaming and broadcast signal. We want to make sure everyone has access, even if they’re using outdated technology.”

“On it boss,” Steve said, pulling out his phone to send a quick text.

And maybe if Genevieve had more experience being kidnapped, maybe she would have taken the opportunity to run. But instead she froze in place, terrified.

The Joker returned to her side. “Sorry about that my dear. Now where were we?”

“The…gameshow?” Genevieve whispered. Maybe the stabbing part would turn out to be a joke. Or hopefully one of the vigilantes would be here to rescue her before things got serious.

“Yes, of course. How about I take you into the room where you can get acquainted with the other contestants? Until Steve gets his bumbling act together and gets the camera ready,” The Joker sneered with a disdainful look at Steve while he shakingly adjusted the camera. “What’s your name again, Holly?”

Genevieve nodded, unwilling to chance correcting the Joker. He led her into a metallic looking room with a heavy door, probably an old freezer room. There was a man chained to a chair in the corner, and in the middle of the room, Nightwing was chained to a metal table, stretched out with his hands over his head. He looked roughed up, there was a bruise starting to darken his face, and blood leaking from the side of his gagged mouth. On another table next to Nightwing, sharp, wicked looking knives were lined up in a row.

“That’s Chuckles over there in the corner,” the Joker said. “Don’t worry, he’s not important. I’ll just be using him to explain the game. He used to own this place you know. Isn’t that a hoot?” The Joker turned to address Chuckles with a sneer on his face. “Enjoying yourself, Chuckles? Bring back good memories of working here? You know, I choose this location just for you, so you could at least pretend to be grateful.” 

Chuckles just cursed and spat.

“Now, now, Chuckles, we can’t have any of that when we start filming,” the Joker scolded. “This is a family friendly show after all.” Then he turned back to Genevieve. “And there in the center is Nightwing. I’m sure you know of him at least. Bird-themed vigilante who runs around with bats? He’s way too much of a talker, so I had to shut him up for a while,” the Joker said, indicating the gag. “But don’t worry, I’ll ungag him when it’s time for him to scream. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on that experience.”

Genevieve shivered. And before she knew it, Steve was setting up the camera, and the Joker was puffing himself up in front of it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Gotham,” he began. “I know you’ve been hard up for entertainment lately. The only thing on the news is horrible people doing horrible things to each other. But enough of that. Tonight, I have a special treat for you all. A nice good old-fashioned family friendly game show, featuring one of your favorite vigilantes, and a Gotham Newcomer, Holly. 

We’re on a tight schedule tonight, so let’s not waste any time, but get started playing Who Wants to Stab a Vigilante? Now, the rules are simple. There’s five knives, and Holly here has to stab each of them into Nightwing. And just to make things even more exciting, one of the knives is coated with flesh-eating bacteria! And you, the audience get to participate as well! Just go on social media, and use the tag #whowantstostabavigilante to help Holly chose where to stab Nightwing. It’s her first time, and we all know that can be a little overwhelming,” he added as an aside. “Oh and also, you can help rate her stabs. Now at the end of the show, we’ll add up all the points Holly has from stabbing Nightwing, and she just might win an extraordinary prize. Now doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Genevieve nodded and tried to hold back her tears as the camera zoomed in on her.

“Now, since it’s Holly’s first time, I’ll demonstrate how the game is played on my lovely volunteer Chuckles. You need to at least get a sense of how a professional does these things.” The Joker stalked over and took a tray of knives with him, Steve scrambling to keep up with the camera.

Genevieve turned and covered her eyes as she heard ‘Chuckles’ make horrible screaming sounds. Then all too soon, the Joker was back and looming over her, blood splattered all over his purple suit. “I hope you were paying attention, Holly,” the Joker said as he shoved her towards the table where Nightwing was chained up. “It’s your turn now. And Harry says ‘leg’ currently has the most votes on our website, but you can get creative with such a generic target.”

Genevieve shuddered and picked up the knife with the shortest blade.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Joker said as he turned to Nightwing and dramatically removed the gag. “Smile, Nightwing, you’re on camera. Just keep the language g-rated in case there are kiddies at home watching.”

Nightwing scowled up at the Joker, but didn’t say anything.

The Joker viciously grabbed Nightwing’s jaw. “Aww, what’s the matter? Bat got your tongue? Usually you’re the chatty one.” 

Nightwing spat a chunk of blood out of his mouth, and continued glaring. “Batman is going to put a stop to this soon and you know it,” he said.

“Oh, ho,” the Joker cackled, turning back to the camera. “Still feisty. I like that. But Batman won’t be interrupting our fun until he finishes making sure everyone else in Gotham is safe. And that leaves plenty of time for stabbing. Isn’t that right, Nightwing?”

“I hope you enjoy Arkham,” Nightwing spat back. “Because that’s right where you’re headed after tonight.”

“I think bird-brain hit his head too hard,” the Joker stage whispered. “He’s clearly delusional, but that shouldn’t stop our fun.” He turned to Genevieve. “Now, Holly, step up and play, don’t let Nightwing scare you, he’s a wily one, but I have years of experience tying him down.” And indeed, Nightwing not only was chained at the hands and feet, but had large straps crossing his torso, elbows and knees.

Genieveve stepped forward until she stood by Nightwing, trying to keep the blade in her hand from trembling. He didn’t look upset or angry, just resigned. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She brought the blade down on his upper thigh, and it bounced off Nightwing’s suit, barely making a dent. Nightwing sighed and wriggled, testing the chains on his wrists.

“Uh, oh, looks like somebody needs to eat their Wheaties!” the Joker cackled. “But this is a good lesson for everyone watching at home. Stabbing isn’t as easy as I make it look, you really need to put some force behind it.” The Joker emphasized his words by grabbing Genevieve’s hand and making a stabbing motion. “But since I’m a kind and generous man-”

Nightwing snorted and let out a small laugh. “Generous murderer,” he commented darkly.

The Joker whirled and backhanded Nightwing. “See what I mean about bird-brain never shutting up?” he raged. “You’d think he’s running the show with how he runs his mouth.”

“Can’t help it, it’s part of my charm,” Nightwing shot back. “If you wanted silent and stoic, you should have taken Batman.”

“Alrighty then,” the Joker said, taking a few deep breaths. “As much as I didn’t want muffled screams from bird-brain, I think we’re going to have to go back to the gag, at least for the first few knives.” The Joker refastened the gag, then walked back over to Genevieve and grabber her hand. “Now, as I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted, I’ll help you for the first few stabs, since I’m such a kind and generous host.”

Genevieve shuddered as he grabbed her hand again, steering her over to the side of the table. It was awful, horrible, to have the Joker plastered to her side and guiding her hand down, and even worse when the knife pierced his flesh with a squelch, blood welling up as Nightwing made a pained grunt behind his gag.

“You can get creative you know,” the Joker explained as he twisted the knife and Nightwing let out a muffled yell. “There’s a limit of five knives, but no limit on how many stabs you can make with each. But leave it in after the last one. Wouldn’t want bird-brain to bleed out too fast, and it makes a pretty picture for the camera, don’t you think.”

Genevieve nodded and drew her hands back, almost sobbing when she saw they were covered in flecks of blood.


	5. Chapter 5

Barbara cursed as she watched the Joker help his hostage sink another knife into Nightwing on one of her monitors. None of the other bats were close to his position downtown, and Bruce had tersely told her Nightwing would have to wait until they finished with the last of the bombs. And so the Joker’s cruel parody of a game show continued. It was difficult to watch, especially with everything else she knew Dick was dealing with, and how abrupt she’d been with him earlier. She felt like she owed it to him though, to watch and keep an eye on things while coordinating as the other bats finished up deactivating the rest of the bombs.

“Isn’t it just so exciting?” the Joker asked on screen. “Only three knives left, and ONE of them has flesh-eating bacteria on the blade.”

Barbara’s hands clenched. It was awful to watch and not be able to do anything. She could easily take the website down, but there was no telling what the Joker might do to his victims if his audience was taken away.

A notification popped up on her monitor. Black bat, Batwoman, and Signal were working on the last three bombs. She quickly opened communications with Batman, Spoiler, and Robin and Red Robin. “The last bombs are being taken care of,” she said. “I’ll send you the location where Joker is keeping his hostages.” She glanced over at the livestream, as Joker plunged a knife into Nightwing’s shoulder. “N might need medical care when you find him,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “The Joker has two other hostages besides N, and only five henchmen.”

“Understood,” Bruce said

Barbara slumped back in her chair after she sent the coordinates. She’d done her part, hopefully the others would get there in time.

-

Bruce felt his stomach sink as he approached the abandoned building that used to be Charlie’s Bakery with Damian, Steph and Tim. He hated dealing with the Joker. The clown had a weird fixation on him, so much so that Bruce always felt vaguely guilty and responsible whenever the Joker acted up. 

“He has one guard on each entrance,” Tim whispered. “And O said he only had five henchmen total.”

“This seems almost too easy,” Steph mused.

“He’s already gotten what he wants,” Bruce said, bile rising in this throat. “That was probably his purpose, to hurt someone important to me while I was busy with a diversion.”

Damian scrunched up his nose, but didn’t say anything. He’d been oddly quiet ever since O mentioned that Nightwing would probably need medical attention.

“Yeah, let’s psychoanalyze the Joker after we rescue N,” Tim said. “I’ll take out the guards with Robin, you two can focus on rescuing the hostages.”

Bruce nodded. Tim was right. Damian frowned but didn’t protest as he skulked off behind Tim to help take care of the guards.

And it barely seemed to take any time at all until they were in the metal room where Nightwing was tied down, blood splattered on the table and dripping to the floor. 

“Oh Batsy!” The Joker looked over with a crazed grin, holding a knife in his hand. “You’ve arrived, and just in time to see the stunning conclusion of today’s show. Now I know, you missed the best parts, but I can re-stab bird-brain here a few times if you feel left out.” The Joker paused to indicate a girl huddled on the floor and dressed up as Harley who looked vaguely familiar. “I tried making an assistant, but kids these days just don’t appreciate artistic violence. Not like me and you.”

“Joker,” Batman growled. “You’re going back to Arkham.”

“Hey, B,” Nightwing said weakly from the table.

The Joker whirled back to face Nightwing again. “What did I say about shutting up?” he angrily shouted, raising the knife.

Batman stepped forward and put all his weight into a roundhouse punch that hit the Joker’s face with a sickening crunch. 

The Joker fell back onto the floor, and began laughing, even as blood flowed from his face. “That excited to see me batsy?” he crowed. “You know I like it rough!”

Batman grunted and grabbed the Joker by the collar of his suit. “It’s over, Joker,” he said, as Spoiler and Robin dealt with the last two henchmen, who barely put up a fight.

“Oh, it’s just getting started,” Joker said through a mouthful of blood. “I did this all for you, Batsy. Did you enjoy the messages I left on the bombs?”

Batman held the Joker far away as he could in disgust. There had been a few unfortunately sexually explicit messages on the bombs, and he was regretting allowing Damian to help, though there was no way he would have stayed home. “Robin, Spoiler,” Batman said. “Take care of the hostages while I take the Joker to Arkham.” The henchmen could stay tied up until Gotham PD arrived, but Bruce knew the Joker would likely escape if left unsupervised for a minute.

Robin nodded stoically, and started picking the lock on Nightwing’s chains.

“Will you look at that, bird-brain,” the Joker stage whispered in Nightwing’s direction. “Batsy is choosing me over you!” Then the Joker started laughing hysterically.

Batman grumbled and left, dragging the Joker behind him. He was not gentle.

-

Dick winced as Damian removed the last of his restraints. “Thanks, Robin,” he said, rubbing circulation back into his wrists. He felt dizzy and light-headed, likely from blood loss, and knew better than to try to stand up unassisted.

Damian nodded stiffly, and Dick could tell he was upset. “Nightwing, are you-” he began.

“We’re going to need an ambulance soon,” Red Robin said from the corner where he’d undone Charles’ bonds. 

“I’ll contact O,” Spoiler said from the floor where Genevieve had latched onto her, sobbing, and was refusing to let go.

Dick felt bad for Charles and Genevieve, they were probably going to need years of therapy after this.

“Nightwing,” Robin repeated, insistent. “Are you able to walk?”

Dick pushed himself up to a sitting position and winced at the vertigo. “I, uh.” He gasped as a wave of pain and nausea hit him. “I think I might need a little help,” he admitted.

“Very well,” Robin said, stepping close so Dick could lean against him for support. “I believe Batman has taken the Batmobile, therefore, we have no choice but to return on Red Robin’s motorcycle.”

“Oh, hell no,” Tim snapped from the other side of the room. “I’ll take Nightwing back then.”

“That is a preposterous suggestion, Red Robin,” Damian said. “I am perfectly capable of driving your motorcycle.”

Tim opened his mouth to protest, but Dick interrupted. “Please don’t argue,” he grit out through the pain, as he shifted his weight from one stabbed leg to the other.

Tim gave an unhappy look, then turned to make sure the henchmen were secure.

Dick breathed deeply through the pain, and focused on taking one step at a time as he leaned on Damian.

When they reached Tim’s motorcycle, Dick reached for the handles, only to have his hands swatted back by an angry Damian. “What do you think you are doing, Nightwing?” Damian hissed. “You are injured, and in no shape to drive.”

“I’m not _that_ injured,” Dick protested.

“Yes, you are,” Damian said, giving him a glare that would rival Batman. “Don’t make me call PennyOne.”

“Fine,” Dick said, and eased himself onto the motorcycle seat. Maybe he could help Damian steer, brush it off as need to support himself.

Damian turned the key and revved the engine. He had to stretch forward to reach the handlebars while balanced precariously on the edge of the seat. “Since you are injured, I suppose we will have to travel slowly,” Damian admitted, continuing his balancing act as they entered the street.

-

It was late when Bruce returned to the Batcave, it had taken a while to ensure the joker was securely back at Arkham, with no chance of escape for a while.

“I’ve taken care of Master Richard’s injuries,” Alfred said with a raised eyebrow that voiced his opinion on how long it had taken Bruce to finish and return. “He resting in his room now. You will be pleased to know that he was feeling well enough to request a decorated cake for tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said. He was tired, it had been an exhausting day, but he knew he couldn’t let himself rest until he’d checked on Dick.

Bruce entered the bedroom and saw that Damian and Titus were sleeping on either side of Dick. He swallowed back a lump in his throat. This was his fault, for always asking so much of Dick, and always putting the safety of Gotham’s citizens over his own son.

Dick’s eyes fluttered open as Bruce approached the bed. “B,” he said, with a small smile that Bruce definitely didn’t deserve.

“Everything is taken care of,” Bruce said, running a hand gently through Dick’s hair.

“Sorry I got caught,” Dick said, leaning into Bruce’s touch. “I should have-”

“We can talk about that later,” Bruce interrupted. “For now focus on getting better. You want to be well enough to eat your cake tomorrow, don’t you?”

Dick grinned and let out a small laugh. “As long as it’s not an algae flavored cake.”

“I’ll have Alfred make an algae flavored one just for you,” Bruce teased. 

Dick’s eyes widened for a moment, then he snorted. “No fair, you’re not supposed to be the funny one.”

And because Bruce was feeling particularly indulgent, he leaned forward and kissed Dick’s forehead. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered.


End file.
